


if I'm Good Will You Come Back?

by horrorswild



Series: Post ep 6 bs [1]
Category: The Amazing Devil (Band), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Being an Idiot, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion is Bad at Communicating, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Sad, jaskier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24328861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horrorswild/pseuds/horrorswild
Summary: Post ep 6 fic, the aftermath of the last line geralt says to Jaskier. Added a few fun details that I think witcher twt will like :)If u like it pls share and comment + leave kudos Ily guys 💖Title from Two Minutes by The Amazing Devil
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Post ep 6 bs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756399
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	if I'm Good Will You Come Back?

"If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!"  
Bit harsh.  
That was the last thing and the only thing that Jaskier heard from Geralt for months. It was just playing in his head constantly, this cacophony of the most heartbreaking sentence that he'd ever heard in his life. And he wasn't even angry.

But, if Geralt didn't want him there then he wouldn't be. He found himself a horse within a week, nothing but that and his lute to keep him company until he got to the next village.  
When he did arrive there though, he never once felt the urge to make joyous conversation with a band of misfits or find a beautiful barmaid to occupy his time. In fact he didn't talk once throughout his three-day stay there. He simply stayed in his room which he had spent the last of his coin on, played a few songs for a pittance and ate what meagre amount of food he could afford. Then rinse and repeat, not a word to anyone, except his singing of course.

On top of such heartbreak that he was already experiencing, Jaskier now had no one to try and impress. So, his hair eventually grew out a little, a bit of stubble beginning to form. He was in that homeless-looking stage that you get to before starting to look rugged and interesting. At least he didn't stink, yet.

It was on one, some would call fateful, day of repeating exactly what he had done for weeks before that Jaskier realised that he wasn't himself. He wasn't just broken and sad and pining, he hadn't had one conversation in two months.  
Not one.  
But try as he might to talk to anyone in the Inn, he couldn't bring himself to. He thought that they'd all probably think he was just as irritating as Geralt thought.

Then, he didnt even stay in, coming outside and finding a nice clearing by the river to set up camp. Julian Alfred Pankratz could build a fire and catch his own dinner without a large...scary...sexy....Witcher to help him. Pfft, 'course he could.  
Setting up camp went relatively smoothly,' relatively' being the operative word as Jaskier had only really managed to make a fire big enough to cook a field mouse on and Boris (that was the horse) had managed to get in his way about nine million times. He was also sat on his favourite doublet, and the ground was a bit wet.

No matter.

He tied up Boris the horse and, without dinner because who wants to eat a mouse, lay down on his own bloody clothes to sleep. Needless to say that sleep didn't last very long but we'll get to that.

~

Geralt, stubborn as ever, at the same time had decided to brood forever. Of course.  
He just...carried on, or he kid himself that he was simply carrying on and definitely not pining for a not-at-all-fillingless bard.  
Without Jaskier, though he hated to admit it, he couldn't get enough coin for some of the luxuries that they'd had with the extra income previously so meagre meals and slaying monsters became the regular again.

This repeated for months and Geralt drew back into himself, his responses returning to simply "Hmm" and on special occasions "fuck".  
That was, until around two months later, when he entered a town at nightfall only to hear the familiar singing. Only then he let out an exasperated and somewhat relieved "shit". He ignored it, however, stubbornly and rode past the woods and river and into the nearest inn, practically begging for trade at this point.

Thankfully, after a few grumbled threats from the distracted Witcher, a carpenter spoke up. "There is...one thing. A kikimora, down by the river, it doesn't come into the town but oftentimes weary travellers come to rest there and...well you know the rest. I'd be happy to pay any fee for that monster to be slain, it killed my-“.  
" Yeah I didnt ask for your life story" Geralt snapped.  
He knew that Jaskier was down by that river, he had heard him and even if he hadn't he could smell him a mile off, he clearly hadn't had a wash.

He left, hurriedly, though he convinced himself that he just needed money and he wouldn't even look at Jaskier if he was there nevermind talk to him.  
Lo and behold, there was a kikimora, standing right over Jaskier, silent.  
For a moment, Geralt was baffled as to how the bard hadn't woken up yet but then again he was a deep sleeper, not that Geralt had noticed on purpose.

However, this surprise only lasted a few moments when the monster lunged for the bard, Geralt springing into action with it. This, of course, woke the young brunette from his slumber.  
He shouted a high and somewhat pre-pubescently broken "Fuck, Geralt!" and scampered away from the fight, leaning against a tree panting, prized lute in hand of course.

Now, it was often said that Geralt never got caught up in the petty squabbles of men. His reaction once he had slain the creature begged to differ. 

The white wolf sighed, heavy and with regret as he leant against the tree beside Dandelions. "Hmm" he grumbled, inspecting his sword, clearly very interested in not looking Jaskier in the eye.  
Naturally, as he was also more petty than he cared to admit, Jaskier grumbled incoherently and turned away, plucking the strings of his lute in no particular pattern. 

"J-" Geralt started, clearly thinking better of it and instead hummed again and walked a little further away, leaning against another tree.  
Jaskier only spared a quick glance at the taller man, fidgeting with the air and his fingers and chewing on his lip as he slumped down onto the floor that mainly consisted of dry leaves and sticks, placing his lute carefully beside him so that it didn't get scratched. 

Geralt looked on from only about twelve feet away, though the distance seemed to stretch miles further than what it was. The white wolf, the butcher of blaviken, the last witcher...was lost for words or actions that could repair what he knew was undoubtedly his fault, he was only relieved that he had got there in time to save the bard- his bard. 

This awkward and tense silence only lasted for a few minutes before the bard noticed that his favourite red doublet had been torn and practically shredded by the kikimora, and by Geralt. He stood, swiping it from the ground in as much rage as a person his size could muster and marched over to the Witcher. 

"You are a bloody fucking...arse Geralt of Rivia!" he raged, gesturing wildly with the ragged piece of red fabric right in front of Geralts face. "You- you piss me off, you make me feel bad and now you come and save me no doubt expecting some kind of thanks! Well no, no Geralt that's not happening, because that's not how the fucking world works, Geralt!" he continued, to which Geralt stared blankly, blinking slowly with a furrowed brow as the smaller man ranted. 

" You. You did this to yourself Geralt and if you can't accept that then by the great Meliteles tits I swear....you won't be seeing me again. " he finished, his chest rising up and down quite violently as he seemed to have got himself all worked up, his fingers fidgeting with his rings and the fabric of his torn doublet. 

Geralt pushed himself up off the tree, standing straight up and towering above Jaskier. "Fine" he practically growled before turning and living without a second glance to the bard, his hair that had grown out being blown about by the wind. 

The bard watched after him, swallowing thickly as he held the ripped material to his chest for some form of comfort, his breathing slow and wobbly as his hands shook just slightly. He sat on the ground where he had been before, kikimora guts surrounding him. He didn't cry, he just took out his lute and began to strum. 

~

"gimme two damn...minutes, and I'll be..."


End file.
